


A Drop Of Ink

by Glass_Oceans



Series: The Ficlet Collection [2]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-09 09:39:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14713640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glass_Oceans/pseuds/Glass_Oceans
Summary: What did Ben Solo most like to draw when he did calligraphy?





	A Drop Of Ink

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning: Padawan Ben Solo, Calligraphy lessons

Ben sighed as he dipped his pen into the inkwell. A blank page of parchment sat in front of his, untouched despite the quiet scratching sounds that came from the other padawans around him. The exercise that Uncle Luke- that Master Luke had prescribed sat in front of him but Ben hadn’t started on a single one. 

He sighed again, moving the pen just before the ink beading at it’s tip could fall and stain the paper. He started at the drop that had fallen on his desk as the wood soaked it up, the dark colour spreading along the grain. As he watched it disappear an idea came to him, and he dipped the pen into his inkwell again, this time holding it directly above vellum, gettingly agitating the pen to encourage the drop to fall. 

It dropped cleanly, sitting in a discrete dome on the prepared parchment. Ben dipped his pen again, and starting at the droplet on the paper, began to drag his pen out in swirls and circles, following a pattern that his hand seemed to know better than his hand. He could feel his heart beat faster as he drew, his hand flying across the page as he leaned closer. There was an larger image just beginning to form from the swirls of ink, something just beyond his understand. A few strokes more-

“Ben.”

Ben gnashed his teeth as Luke’s voice cut through his concentration, and he could feel the image fade from his mind as he pulled himself upright in his chair. 

“That’s not the exercise is it, Ben.”

“No Master Luke,” Ben replied, setting his pen down. He thumbed the edge of the parchment before lifting it from his desk, handing it to Luke to be disposed of. Luke exchanged it for another, blank piece and walked away. Ben started at the blank paper. Wordlessly, he reached forward for his jar of ground pumice and began to prepare the parchment for use.


End file.
